A Dress of a Different Color
by Graphospasm
Summary: For the Trickster God, I feel Loki doesn't pull near enough tricks in the recent Avengers movie. So, in this oneshot Loki pulls a trick on a hapless OC. It all starts with an elevator ride and hatred for a certain thunder god's signature color.


_This is a really stupid one-shot. Total random weirdness. Ignoreignoreignore. _

_This takes place during one brief hypothetical not-scene in the "Avengers" film—when Loki is on his way to extract the digital 'eye' at that museum gathering thing (at least I think it was a museum gathering thing; details were hazy)._

_Contains an OC and Loki being more of a mischievous trickster than the movie gave him credit._

_Also-in this scene I interpret Loki to be getting geared up to have some fun at the expense of the human race. In a more dramatic part of the movie I'd write him a bit... grittier? Ah, well, fun-Loki is what we've got for now._

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"A Dress of a Different Color"

A one-shot

By Graphospasm

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Loki wasn't particularly fond of elevators. Neither was he particularly fond of the humans who invented them. So when Loki found himself stuck in an elevator with a human on his way to fetch the eye requested by Clint 'Hawkeye' Barton, he couldn't help feeling more than a little put out.

Loki had entered the building from the rooftop per Hawkeye's instruction. The Norseman had demanded a grand entrance; Hawkeye had suggested waltzing down the museum's central staircase, entering the throng of humans gathered in the chamber below with head held high, and then wreaking all sorts of havoc. Loki had liked this idea, of course—he liked the thought of entering like the king he was meant to be, descending from on high, godly and glorious and unexpected. The act suited his taste for the dramatic and would surely work to instill a reverent sort of fear in the humans' hearts. But to get to the stairs unseen (because being seen ahead of time would surely spoil the effect of his grand entrance) Loki had to enter the museum in secret. Thus he had entered from the rooftop and stepped into the elevator from that high vantage point, smiling quietly to himself in anticipation as the carriage dropped down floor after floor.

Or, it would have dropped down floor after floor had someone else not hailed the elevator. The doors parted only a few stories down, revealing a woman in a red dress standing with hands clasped tight beneath her ribs. She offered Loki a small, apologetic smile before stepping onto the elevator and looking at the floor buttons. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth when she saw what number Loki had pressed; she herself pressed nothing. They were destined for the same floor, it seemed.

Loki did his best to ignore the woman. She was, after all, a human, and she was therefore beneath his notice. He considered just killing her on the spot for delaying his plans (impudent wretch), but when he glanced at the woman to judge just how easy the act would be, he saw something strange. She was staring at the elevator door, wringing her hands, and rocking slightly on her heels—back and forth, back and forth, as if to invisible music. And her _face_. Loki hadn't seen a human look that frightened since the incident in… where was it? New Mexico?

To think she would be frightened of an absent apparition when _he_ was standing right there struck him as very odd indeed.

To his chagrin, the woman noticed that he was staring; her eyes darted in his direction and met his head on. Rather than back down, however, Loki merely stared more intently. Shouldn't his very aura be frightening her off?

Maybe it should have—but the fact remained that it wasn't. Her preoccupation was strong enough, he supposed, to override the obviousness of his aura. Her eyes flickered up and down the column of his body, bold and assessing, and then she took a deep breath.

"Hello," she said. She spoke with a lilting sort of accent, one Loki couldn't place. "Um." She hesitated. "May I… ask you something?"

Her brazenness—to directly address _Loki_, to his _face_—was almost funny. She clearly had no idea who he was. Loki found himself wondering how she would act after his plan went into action. Would she scream and flee? Kneel and weep when he displayed his powers for the world to see?

No. Loki realized that he was, more than anything, curious as to how she would act _without_ knowing who he was, without the taint of fear and subjugation bowing her indolent little head. It wasn't as if he knew these humans. He had stolen the minds of a few, turned them over in his hands, controlled them, but to be able to observe one in a natural environment…

Loki meant to enslave these people, of course he did, but right then he found himself feeling a bit… well, tricky. He began to smile.

The human woman, clearly unaware of what transpired behind Loki's smirk, took the expression as an invitation. Taking the sides of her skirt in her hands, she lifted the fabric as one would an apron if one meant to collect berries. Loki followed the action with his eyes; she wore delicate silver sandals with very high heels and many straps beneath her dress. How could she walk in those shoes?

"Do I look," she asked, "as ridiculous as I feel?"

Her expression spoke of dread and a tired sort of acceptance. Loki looked her over. She had red hair gathered into a knot at the nape of her neck, pale skin smattered at the shoulders and the nose with light freckles, and almond-shaped green eyes. Her nose was thin and straight; her lips were small, but full. Not an unattractive woman, but her dress—it reached the floor, hugging her figure until it reached the hips, where it flowed outward in a waterfall of full fabric. Small gems, clear in color, studded her bodice. The dress suited her figure, but the fabric had been dyed a crimson so intense it rivaled Thor's customary cloak.

Loki hated the color on sight, not even because it clashed horribly with the woman's hair. Anything that reminded him of Thor was cause for instant hatred.

"While I appreciate the cut," Loki said as he observed the woman's small waist and full hips, "I cannot say I am overly fond of the color." Internally he added: _Green is clearly the superior shade._

The woman sighed. She ran her hands down the front of her dress, lips pursed in resigned consternation. "My mother always says I look best in green," she said.

The comment would have made Loki start had he been predisposed to doing so (which he was not). He entertained the brief notion that the women had somehow read his mind before squashing such thoughts entirely. She was human. There was no way.

But she was right, he decided. She would look good in green. Pale green, especially. It would bring out the red in her hair and the darker green of her eyes. And her freckles—Loki was not a connoisseur of freckles, but set against red like this the freckles seemed too sharp. Green would soften the sunspots and make the red of the woman's hair glow rich. As it was, her hair just seemed carroty in comparison to the crimson silk.

The elevator glided to a halt. When the doors opened and the woman began to leave, Loki took a quick step forward and deftly cut her off. He nearly grazed her; she stumbled back to avoid a collision and had to brace herself on the elevator's back wall. Loki turned on his heel just outside the elevator door, facing the woman with a smile.

"Excuse you!" she said, clearly incensed. "Why don't you watch where you're—_oh_."

She had stopped talking because Loki had lifted his spear and pointed it straight at her. The blue of the spear's core pulsed and glowed, casting the woman's face into a dreary pall. Her mouth dropped open. Other than her expressive mouth, her features had all gone blank. Stunned, she did not react when Loki's armor, horned helmet and all, flickered into view as he concentrated on a small spell. A charm, merely. The trick took less than a moment to complete; with another mischievous smile Loki tipped the stunned human a rather charming wink.

"You were right," he said. "You _do_ look better in that color."

And with that, Loki turned to go—but not before he heard the woman in the elevator let out a gasp at the sight of her dress, which had turned a scintillating sea foam green.

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NOTES:

_ There are only, what six lines of dialogue in this? So the whole thing went down in less than a minute, at least. I guess it feels longer thanks to the detail._

_ Hoping I got Loki's drama-king voice right! I went all high-handed and lofty to try to get him right. Also I suck at third person narration. I usually stick to first._

_ I have an idea for this OC's reunion with Loki (a whole fic is bubbling in my head) but we'll see if I ever get there. For now I just want to show that Loki can be a petty prankster when he wants. Trickster God, ahoy! _


End file.
